


Perspective

by bloodstainedgold (cisquexlily)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (should have their own kink tbh), Crowley's red eyes, F/M, I mean come on he's the king of Hell, I refuse to accept Crowley's death, Mentions of Murder, Reader-Insert, Sorta Fluffy, What Did You Expect, and torture, gotta love that power kink, reader gives zero shits about what Crowley does, so have this, so they fuck, vaelawrites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cisquexlily/pseuds/bloodstainedgold
Summary: All you heard about Crowley was his vicious, cruel ways; warnings that he was nothing short of villainous. You refused to believe that he would ever act that way towards you.Or, how the king of Hell found his queen.





	Perspective

               You had encountered the world of the supernatural when a ghost had decided to move in with you and wreak havoc. The kind hunter who took care of the spirit had explained how all of these things you were convinced were just stories actually hid in the shadows caused by ignorance and refusal. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you believed him and spent time researching this new world.

               The more well-connected you became, the more you learnt about the king of Hell. He called himself Crowley, and anyone who talked about him only murmured of his evil disposition – as the ruler of Hell was expected to be. And one night, you made a reckless decision and took home a handsome stranger whose voice was a contradictory mix of smooth and gravelly and sent shivers through your spine.

               The amount of alcohol in your system allowed you ignore the familiarity of his name and then erased it from your mind by the morning. All that was left of him was the whisper of his stubble on your skin and a single rose at the foot of your bed.

               You found small gifts at the same exact spot as the red flower for weeks – first duplicates of the rose, then tickets to an event you didn’t feel justified in buying and similar more personally tailored offerings, and most recently a piece of paper with a time and address. At first, you were quite paranoid about the presents, but you decided to simply indulge in the attention without asking many questions.

               Even though you knew it was stupid to go to the address on the paper without knowing what exactly was waiting for you, you felt compelled to. The address leads you to a quaint, out of the way restaurant that seemed empty. You were hesitant to approach it, wondering if you misread the address, but a silent figure at the entrance opened the door inside and looked at you expectantly.

               You were right when you thought it was empty – nobody was inside except for the handsome man you had slept with weeks ago standing at a table in the centre of the room. You walked towards him with caution – you weren’t clueless to the power he commanded, or the odd nature of the gifts materialising on your bed. This couldn’t be an ordinary man, and yet here you were, in your nicest dress, strolling towards this likely supernatural stranger.

               “I wasn’t sure you would come.” His voice was just as enchanting as you remembered. He wore a black suit similar to the one he wore when you first met him, his hands clasped in front of him.

               “I felt a little obligated, considering all of your gifts,” You said, a smile playing at your lips. “At this point, I may as well give you the deed for the end of my bed.”

               He grinned in response and pulled out a char for you to sit. In the middle of the table was a rose identical to those he had left for you. He sat opposite you, and almost instantly a waiter appeared and offered you both menus without a word and disappeared just as fast as he appeared.

               “So, am I allowed to know the name of the man who cleared out a restaurant for me?” You asked casually, eyes flicking through the words on the menu. “It slipped my mind once the handover kicked in.”

               “Of course, love, my name is Crowley.”

               Your fingers paused as they followed the words you were reading, your breath caught lightly in your throat as you moved again.

               “Oh?” Your tone of voice hadn’t changed. “And what is it that you do for a living, Crowley?” His name felt like velvet on your tongue.

               “Judging by how startled you were, I think you already know.” He locked gazes with you and leaned forward slightly. His eyes flared a vicious colour of red.

               You should have left. Ran, even. But despite the knowledge that you sat across from the king of Hell, a demon, you stayed in your seat. There was no chance that you could resist staying with this mysterious man, even if he ran the underworld.

               “Just making small talk,” You responded, and he sat back with an expression akin to awe, though carefully concealed. “I think I’ll have the salmon.”

-:-:-:-:-:-

               Two months later, you had Crowley’s arm around your waist as you both lied in your bed. You thought of how differently you saw him just a few short months ago – as a villain, cruel, heartless, and cold – to the man to your side. Nothing short of a gentleman, considerate, the only harsh things about him were the lines of his jaw and the burn of his beard against your skin. You rolled towards him and onto your side, studying his face.

               “What?” He murmured, eyebrow slightly raised.

               “Everybody says you’re a bad guy. Maybe not _the_ bad guy, but all the same.”

               “I love how nicely you think of me,” He half-heartedly snarked.

               “I used to believe them,” You continued, ignoring him. “How else would the king of the underworld act? But now I think about the man they think you are and who you really are as two separate people.”

               “They don’t lie, you know. I still kill; I still torture and torment, despite how I act with you.”

               “But the man they speak of wouldn’t think twice about doing those things to me. You would never.”

               “No, I wouldn’t,” He agreed. “But I would gladly do so for you, love.”

               You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I know.”

               With as much fear as Crowley commanded, you became similar to a legend. The beautiful woman standing at the side of the ruler of Hell, entrancing him with every gentle movement and every word. The woman who stood unblinking as he harmed and killed for her, whose words could make him turn into a ruthless murderer, whose touch could make him drop whatever he was doing. And as much as Crowley was feared, you were feared equally.


End file.
